Category: Short Notes

Stars, that are rarely visible in Delhi. The night sky here is more like a kid trying to learn to tie knots and every time he tries to strengthen the last one he tied, he ends up tying another one in some distant corner on the thread.

It’s not strong, it’s not unified or a pretty pattern. Some even barely existent.

Some even barely existent.

But it forms something, something to cheer that little child up. One big accomplishment added to his face with a smile. I wonder if God gets all joyous and giddy when he creates another star in the night sky. But when he looks down if we are just as happy as he is, we are clueless. Because we don’t see anything. It’s all black and dim.

Can we not cover god’s art with a nasty polluted blanket?

We’ve all heard the “how people who die become stars” story. To some, it’s another one of grandma’s story which is too good to be believed. But then grandma knows the best, doesn’t she? I like to believe that version, it’s nice to put your faith into something rather than into nothing. And it’s calming and comforting that you haven’t really lost the ones you loved, they are wandering up above with some new found friends and are happy.

I asked the cracks on my forehead, graciously accompanying marks and bruises,

“Who did this to you?”

There’s no reply, it just spreads, cracks further down to the side of my eyes. My eyes begin to water but my will still holds strong for a reply.

The scar, as stubborn as the parent, stays tenacious and splits further down, then in an odd fashion, sideways, marking its territory.

I still stand strong, adamant on getting a reply.

The battle continues and eventually, I break.

Upon my surrender, the scar turns to me and whispers I deadly undertone,

“You did this to me, you. You gave me away to someone else. You thought it was okay to be scared in love, it was okay to be left writing and screeching with a torn heart and muscles, with a few pulled hair. Because you’re never too broken, there’s always a better morning, with lies and promises you’ll readily believe. But, look where your love brought us. A silent, standstill. Where you’re just a rose, hoping someone will overlook your thorns and accept you with the love you lost.

Well, nobody will do that, because as poetic as it sounds, it not what happens. You, YOU, pick out your thorns, you don’t let yourself crack. And before you fall in love with someone who spreads cracks in the floor, choose the underground and fall for yourself. Because darling, did everyone ever buy a rose with thorns?”

I am the person you’d walk by and wouldn’t take notice of. I am like the window masked by the tree with many branches with beautiful blossoming leaves on every branch alike.

It’s not like I am an antisocial element in a world buzzing of social entities. No.

I am just the person who won’t confirm to your notions. I am not regular. And it’s not as poetic and beautiful as people make it sound.

It’s hard. Deciding to try and not to try. If try, for how long. If not, why the hell not.

It meddles with me every time I wake up and decide to be a participant in the world again. I want to be like the people I see. The people pulling off a smile so flawlessly and not looking like a panzee when in a laughing riot.

I take up mannerisms so very quickly and forget what and who I am.

I am the window who you could paint in any color. The window which is easily modified and no matter how beautifully you line it with lights and flowers, it’ll always be the house people go praising.

You’ll walk up to me when it rains. You’ll look right through me and smile. You won’t see that I am bracing the drops. And when it’s bright and sunny, you’ll cover me with curtains. And then, just like that, I’ll be in-existent again. Like always.

I’ll wait around again trying to be more fitting, trying to be a window. A window you’ll realize is a person just as you are with all the emotions and insecurities just like yours. But where we’ll differ, is, I won’t have a window ever. And you’ll always be the tree with the pink flowers.

College. The word itself puts every student graduating school this year in far off wonderment. You can’t possibly contain your happiness thinking about college. No more standardized uniforms to put on (which makes everyone look pathetic anyway), no more 8 am-2 pm inescapable classes and the most important one, freedom. Freedom in college could mean different things to different people. For me it meant unlimited hours of outings with friends, discovering unlimited places, most importantly BUNKING. Any time you liked.Oh, what dreams I had of college at this very time a year back.

Yeah, they were really dreams actually, never fulfilled.

3rd August 2015. The first day I stepped into my college with much excitement. It was the Orientation day. I wasn’t afraid of being alone in the unknown crowd, I had friends from school accompanying me. What could be a better start to college! (Same course, same class if I may mention). I entered the college with all those hopes to see a big as life campus, the lush green fields I had always imagined myself sitting in when I was bunking classes. I saw nothing. There were no lush green fields. There was nothing I could call a “college campus”. It was just a building. Thinking I was only seeing a part of the college I went ahead. “The students don’t enter the college from the front gate.” Yeah. Entry from the back gate which was actually the canteen. All the expectations, or as I say “college goals” were turned into…. well, nothing.

By the time I made it to the orientation hall, I had been surprised a quite a lot of times by now. Small classrooms, not “hidden spots” to hangout. The Orientation Hall was full with students, giggling and judging everyone who entered the door on the basis of what they wore. (Guilty as charged, I did too). We were asked to wear formals, which only few people had decided to abide by. I was one of them.

The ceremony began, a presentation on our prestigious college was up first. Nobody did pay attention really and that’s how the whole ceremony passed in a blur. Little did I know that’s how the first year at college would pass too.

College started in the most amazingly imaginable way possible. Because, well, we bunked the first day, half a day really. But we did. And when you know your college is walking distance from Nehru Place‘s rajma chawal, you can’t sit in class then. Also your ready to bunk and explore places soul doesn’t let you say no. It’s said “How you spend the first day of a new year (which it was technically) decides how you spend the year ahead. Well that’s how the year went, bunking, eating, getting permission from parents to go out and in case not granted, heading out anyway :P. Another aspect of being a first year student or for that matter being a college student is, you’re always BROKE. No matter how generous your parents are about your monthly allowances, you’ll never know where the money went. The situation worsens when you have friends who’ve got cars, and your wanderlust soul cannot rest their asses on the college benches. And also, no damns given to the already low attendance. And if my any chance you are a person who can be easily persuaded, well, your parents will be soon on first name basis with your lectures.

In all the ranting I forgot about the most important piece of the puzzle that college is. Friends. The ones who will take you places which you wouldn’t have even heard of. The ones who’ll make you bunk classes for the movie you don’t want to watch. The ones who would make you laugh between lectures. The one who wouldn’t let you attend your classes, long story short, the ones who actually make college worth attending. (Even if you have a small campus :P). Mine are actual pieces of shit. But then how else would I’ve known that you can tour Yamuna Expressway and be back before 2 so your parents wouldn’t know. How else would I’ve known what a great show FRIENDS was.How else would would I’ve know that there’s no Karim’s in Chandni Chowk, it’s actually Jama Masjid. Kudos, to you bastards. And also I wouldn’t have known that college can somehow match up to the memories school gave you. There’ll be a lot of unpleasant shit you don’t want to come across.There’ll be fights, bitching, group-ism and all those things which school protected you from but it’ll be all worth it.

To all the bunkers sitting with me everyday and watching me laugh in the most ridiculous manner.

Originally, I decided to start this blog only for the purpose of sharing my Short Story Series, The Darkdoors.

Since I have nothing better to do other than waiting for my last entrance exam, I decided to pen down a little rambling. And not only this, there’ll be many more. Give it a read if you are just as bored as I am. I hope you’ll like it.

There has to be a solution to every thing in the world, a problem without a defined solution, or jugaad as we know it, cannot exist. Well, most of us think that way. Not our fault you see. The kind of surroundings we Indians are born and brought up in, I don’t think we are the ones to blame. We can always blame our teachers, or parents, or traffic, or spilled lemonade.These days I am on spree to find jugaads to this problem called “let’s meet up now that school’s over”. I know school’s over and you have nothing better to do than whatsapp me how you have nothing to do and you expect me to be having nothing better to do too. Bhai aisa nahi hai.

So that annoying person who thinks that he’s your friend but in reality is just a bugger and won’t let you live in peace unless you “make a plan and go out roaming with him/her” because school’s over, fir kab milengey yaar don’t fear when your parents are here! Mummy Ne mana kar dia yaar simple. As stated by all websites worldwide, this one’s the national excuse of our country. This one sentence can stop a bugger of any level.

But make sure you don’t Instagram your day out pictures just the very next day. That can be injurious to health, not as much as smoking is, but nonetheless injurious. But this can’t work for too long. You have to come up with something else, something more realistic like… a wedding in your house! We as Indians, are blessed with countless relatives and those countless maamas and buajis always have countless annoying, rarely awesome kids. So someone is to get married someday. So why not now ! Get one of your bua’s or chacha’sbeta/beti married. (Or we can always make up one, all the citizens of this country are my brothers and sisters.. remember ?)

And we all know how awesome Indian weddings are ( sarcasm intended). Anyone to everyone is busy and exhausted. So another excuse is at your disposal. Do some homework yourself, and let me know too. What? I am only human alright, I’ve given you the ones that work the best.

PS You can always switch off your phone. But that takes a lot of courage. Ohh wait…. *whatsapping*